


31 days

by Skrigget



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Captain Pan, Child Abuse, Just angst, M/M, No Fluff, Sexual Content, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, sorry - Freeform, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 07:52:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1850251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skrigget/pseuds/Skrigget
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Killian starts counting the days again, because suddenly Peter is there. Until he isn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	31 days

Day 1

The air is cold, so cold Killian can hardly breathe but not as cold as the water. The water, should he decide to let it drown him, would definitely be a lot colder. It's black, not a hint of blue in it. The longer he looks at it, the more he can see: it wants to reach out, wants to grab, wants to pull him under, strangle, beat, and terrorize him until there is not a drop of air left in his pathetic body. 

,,Are you going to jump?” 

The voice alone is colder than the air surrounding them. It’s like ice – cutting everything around him like a sharp blade. The boy, to whom it belongs, is just that: a boy. A fragile one, as well. Bruises seem to paint his otherwise white skin blue and black. His eyes are green, absorbing, hypnotizing and simply terrifying. 

,,No.”

,,Then why are you here?” 

It’s not an invitation – but it is. And so Killian steps forward, the boy smirks and raises one eyebrow and they exit together because they are both cold, and lonely, and scared of the water and the lack of air in their starving lounges. 

Day 2

He’s still there, the day after. The sunlight shines through the dirty windows - barely - and covers the boy in a warm, gentle color. Killian pulls the curtains so the darkness can be the only thing hugging them tight again. He needs the darkness, like he needs the terrifying water, and he has a feeling the boy does as well. 

Day 4

He’s still there, Killian doubts he’s ever going to leave. Killian doubt he wants him to leave. His mouth is the closest thing to perfection the man has ever been in his entire life. The lips are cold and broken, and if he kisses him to hard he can taste his blood in his mouth. It’s satisfying. His tongue is the only warm thing about him, but when it pushes into the man’s mouth he’s sure it’s going to pull the very life out of him. He’s oddly okay with that. Shouldn’t be, doesn’t care. His teeth bites, bites, bites until Killian screams and the boy laughs. 

Day 8

His hands are slender and even worse than his mouth. They are bones, bones, bones. They yank, and pull, and they bruise, and they ruin. His nails draw blood when they scratch their way down Killian’s back. Killian has tried to tell him that pain isn’t the same as pleasure but the boy just looks as him amused and continues his vicious games. 

Day 9

His name is Peter. Killian didn’t think he had a name. How can such a thing have a name? The boy isn’t a boy. He’s a demon, he’s the devil, he’s an angel fallen from the sky. He’s hell on earth, and Killian craves it. Peter. When he says it, he’s choking. When he sings it, he’s drowning. When he moans it it’s like a prayer. When he shouts it it’s a curse. But mostly its poison – venom spilling from the tip of his tongue, ruining the air between them, making it hard for them to breathe. 

Day 11

They don’t do conversations. Conversations mean words and words means Peter clicking his tongue annoyed. He likes to hear his own voice, wants Killian to make a noise in the back of his throat like his dying, and let that be the only respond. Peter doesn’t want anything else, and what Peter wants, Killian is prepared to serve on a silver plate. Even if it’s his own head. 

15

It takes more than 2 weeks before the man realizes that he started counting the days after Peter entered his life. Before that there was nothing, only the dark water calling his name and the taste of rom in his mouth. Now all he hears is Peter’s mocking laugh and his own moans and the only thing his taste is the boy, the boy, the boy. The boy, but he isn’t a boy. He’s so much more than that. He’s what Killian’s counting days for. 15 days today. 

17

And then he’s gone. Killian wakes up one morning and he isn’t there. The bed is still warm but his sense doesn’t linger anywhere. When he steps out of the bedroom, thick with the smell of sex, there is nothing to remind him of the boy. He slides down the wall, stares at his fingers, can’t remember if he used to hold Peter in them. He’s already losing his mind. 

17 – The night before 18

There he is. He’s beautiful but he’s broken. He’s a broken piece of beautiful porcelain. His lip is bleeding, his nose is bleeding, tears are falling from his eyes, but they aren’t tears of sadness – sadness does not exist in this creature before Killian. They are tears of hatred of bitterness of revenge. 

,,You waited up for me.” 

Peter sounds disgusted and he sounds oddly pleased. He looks at Killian like his an animal, a plaything. And he is. Peter strips of his clothe very slowly, allows Killian to get a good look at all the new bruises covering every spot of his youthful body. He’s still perfect, so Killian drops to his knees, grab his waist and feel Peter’s fingers in his hair. 

20

They are always arguing, but never like this. 20 days they’ve been living under the same roof, but they’ve never argued like this. Peter doesn’t do shouting. He mocks and teases and spits his words at Killian, who whimpers like a wounded animal, before he strikes back with everything he got. But Peter doesn’t respond to any of the man’s words. He laughs until his throat is sore and his mouth is dry and the apartment is dark. 

22 

Killian hates him. He hates him like he hates the lump it his throat threatening to suffocate him. He hates him like the pain in his fingers, when they twist and turn for his body. He hates him like he hates himself. 

23

He craves him. He craves him like he craves the rum – oh god the rum. He drinks more and he drinks less. Sometimes he drinks until he stops craving the boy, that takes a lot of liquor in his system. He drinks until his blood is poisoned and his skin is itching and he can even remember the boy’s name. 

Lies. All lies. He’ll never forget his name. Peter makes sure of that. He snorts loudly when Killian pulls out the bottle. He rolls his eyes and walks towards him. He looks at the man with his green, deadly orbs and situates himself in his lab. He leans in and whisper in the man’s ear. He moves his hips, Killian drops the bottle. Rom and glass is scattered all around but none of them care. Killian craves him and no amount of alcohol can make him do otherwise. 

24

They talk for the first time. They have a prober conversation. It’s the most terrifying thing in Killian’s life. The boy doesn’t say much and he’s the only person Killian knows, who can hold a conversation for three hours straight without revealing anything. Killian tells every single one of his secrets. They spill from his mouth so easily it’s ridiculous. 

,,You’ve ruined me,” Killian says afterwards, when they are in bed, undressing each other. 

,,You were already ruined,” Peter mumbles amused. Like this is all a game. 

27

Peter is designed to play. He’s designed to do with whomever whatever he wants. He’s a kind off machine, really. Killian realizes this when they boy come back to the apartment the 26th day lumping, his teeth clenched, his jaw tightened and his fingers shaking. Peter doesn’t have a life, he only has destruction. Killian knows one of them is going to submit in the end, but he can’t quite figure out which one of them. The obvious answer is himself and 4 out of 5 times that’s what he’ll answer – but then he looks at the boy, sometimes, and Peter is just staring out of the dirty bedroom window, with hallow eyes and teeth sunk deep into his lower lips and fingers curled in his lap and then Killian doubts everything. He doesn’t want to doubt. He wants Peter to win. 

28

It’s like he knows what going to happen before it does. Like, maybe he is counting down, just from the wrong end. Maybe he is counting down, maybe there’s clock inside of him and he is just waiting for the inevitable. 

29

Peter is perfection, Peter is destruction, Peter is everything Killian loathes and everything he dreams of and he needs him, like he needs the air in his lungs and the pain in his throat and the nightmares that he has to scream himself awake from. 

30

Maybe it wasn’t a coincidence they met by the water? 

31

Even the bed is cold this time. And just like before his presence doesn’t linger anywhere. Peter is a ghost – he hasn’t left any marks, any evidence. 

31 – The night before 32 (that will never come)

Killian doesn’t sleep. He waits. That’s what he does best. He waits for Peter; he waits for the pain or the pleasure and the starvation. Just like he’d waited for his brother, just like he’d waited for his parents, just like he’s always waited and counted and thought to himself, that the water looked so terrifyingly satisfying. 

Peter and him weren’t so different in the end, where they? 

He stops counting for a while. The month is over, April is coming full of flowers and spring and the promise of a better future. Killian snorts. 

1

They pull his body out of the water and he starts counting again.


End file.
